


Roman Holiday

by ubertastic



Series: Spread Your Wings [6]
Category: Strike Witches
Genre: Alternate History, Award Ceremonies, F/F, Royalty, Sneaking Out, after the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubertastic/pseuds/ubertastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucchini's an adult and Maria's the ruler of Romagna, but that won't stop either from enjoying a day on the town. Or, a least, planning to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roman Holiday

"…for bravery in Romagnan skies against the Neuroi threat…"

If there was one thing Lucchini hated about being a witch, it was the award ceremonies. She didn't care about a shiny medal that would just end up collecting dust under her bed.

"The Duchy of Romagna would like to award, on the behalf of all its citizens, the Gold Medal of Military Valor…"

Lucchini bit her tongue to keep from yawning; she knew if she showed any (visible) signs of boredom, she would be berated by every former member of the Strike Witches.

"…to the brave witches of the 501st and 504th Joint Fighter Wings."

She gritted her teeth in a grim smile, one that would perfectly fit the image of a mature, eighteen-year-old veteran. The adoring crowd didn't need to know that her "mature, eighteen-year-old" self would much rather nodding off in in the barracks.

A stern faced general (who, Lucchini noted, had a ridiculously large moustache) made his way down the line of stiff-backed soldiers, pinning a golden medal on each one as he went. He made sure to firmly shake each witch's hand before moving on the next.

Lucchini looked straight ahead as he approached her, her eyes fixed on a Romagnan flag near the door leading from the room the ceremony was held in. She could hear the Duchess announce her name, country, and current unit affiliation. The handshake followed, and soon the general moved on to the person beside her.

She let out the breath she had inhaled earlier to keep herself from fidgeting, but the intensity at which in exhaled made it sound more like a sigh of relief. Shirley, who to Lucchini's knowledge was having just as hard a time acting serious, nudged with her with an elbow and snickered.

The sound was quickly cut off however, and Lucchini shot an appraising glance around Shirley's red hair. Judging from the scene, Perrine, who had been standing directly on Shirley's other side, had jabbed the latter, roughly, in the side.

Now, even more amused than before, Lucchini could barely keep the grin off her face, and she couldn't help but guiltily smirk as the Duchess moved down the line, thanking each witch individually. Maria was as beautiful as she was the first time she and Lucchini met, but Lucchini, who had "blossomed" (as Shirley loved to jokingly put it) just a few years ago, couldn't help but be hyper aware of this fact.

Maria's hand was soft and dainty and really, really pale for someone from a country that was so frequently showered in sun. Lucchini took the small hand in hers and immediately felt self-conscious; her hands were calloused and dark and far too comfortable with the feel of a gun, whose cold, hard metal was a long shot from the heat and, frankly, squishiness, of Maria's hand.

The grin that was previously plastered on Lucchini's face slipped off and left her with a vaguely stunned one. Maria, meanwhile, didn't seem to notice and proceeded down the line, offering a handshake to a partly serious, partly bored Eila.

The rest of the ceremony was as dull as the beginning, but Lucchini had no trouble standing still. She was too busy trying to ignore the way her fingers were tingling.

\--

"It looks good on you," Maria told Lucchini in the privacy of her personal living room, which was one of many in the castle. "The medal and uniform both."

Lucchini twisted in her seat on the couch and yanked at the hem of her black Redpants jacket. She had been admitted to the elite group nearly two years ago, after she, as Barkhorn said, "grew up."

"I guess the last time we saw each other, I didn't have it yet," Lucchini mused. "Just how many years has it been? Four, five?"

Maria reached out from her place in a nearby armchair to play with the golden award, her thumb rubbing the face. "Too long," was her simple, mumbled reply.

Lucchini had to agree; both had grown considerably since the day they toured Rome together. Her gaze dropped to her chest, her eyes following the motions of Maria's fingers on her medal.

"The war's over now," she stated, lamely, leaving a million and a half things unsaid.

Maria made a noise in the back of her throat in agreement. "I have been wanting to see Rome through someone else's eyes again." She moved her hand to fiddle with Lucchini's collar. Lucchini could feel her breath catch.

"I have vacation time coming up," she offered, glancing at Maria's face.

"I don't," she giggled. "But I'm flattered you would offer." Her hand movements shifted again, and she started to fix the black collar.

Lucchini cracked a grin. "Of course!" she enthused. "You're a friend."

Maria pulled her hand away. Smiling, she affirmed what Lucchini had just said. "A friend."

"And that's what friends do, right? Ditch training and kidnap them from royal responsibilities to go out on dates."

Neither could keep a straight face after Lucchini's statement, and their laughter could be heard in the surrounding halls.

"Your highness!" It was the general from earlier. "This is where you were! You have a radio broadcast in a few hours and the press would like to speak with you before then."

Maria stood, body still trembling with chuckles, and took Lucchini's arm, heaving her up with strength belied by her regal appearance. "It was nice seeing you again," she said, moving away.

Lucchini stopped her short, though, and pulled her into a firm hug, their heads right beside each other. She spoke in little more than a whisper, "Next week, eight o'clock in the morning, dress casual. I'll meet you outside the back gates of the courtyard."

She stepped away, feeling immensely satisfied with herself. Maria nodded, her cheeks still tinged with red from the unexpected embrace.

Next week couldn't come soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net. URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6569262/6/
> 
> Historic References:
> 
> \- The Gold Medal of Military Valor is an actual Italian military award. It's one of the highest honors awarded by the Italian government and is still awarded today. Notable Strike Witches-related recipients include Furio Niclot Doglio (the archetype for Federica N. Doglio, commander of the 504th), Hans-Joachim Marseille, and Franco Lucchini.


End file.
